- Dec 8, 2022
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It seems distant now, sunrises spent within the deep dark; hardly anything to eat, hardly anything to keep one entertained besides the shuffling of their own paws, and the sounds of their own voices— and their group had not been a talkative bunch. She recalls Mosspaw's tears, the drip against stone floors barely - audible, but loud within the silent dark. Sharppaw had not known what to say then. She did not know how to reassure anyone. Hardly anyone has ever reassured her.
He recalls her again, green eyes that reached for her namesake stretched wide in shock— because what Sharppaw hadsaid was so ghastly, so appaling; utterly imaginable, the way it was. At the very least, she had not been angry. Just... surprised.
Sharppaw still did not know what to say to her. He feels different from how he did when they'd been trapped in those tunnels— but this is still something he was not made for, and likely never would be. Why did she, of all cats, deserve soft words and false murmurings of what could not be guaranteed?
He still finds himself wanting to talk, though. Which is weird.
It's convenient, where they both lay amongst the larger group. By pure coincidence, they are situated nearby, and not for the first time, Sharppaw would take her nighttime musings aloud. " Aren't you at least a little bit scared? " she whispers to the molly. Sharppaw isn't. If she were to return, just to find ShadowClan all dead in their nests, she would be perfectly fine. ( She most certainly would not be. ) " ...I know you were before, " If that is something Mosspaw had wanted to keep to herself, Sharppaw would gladly hold it above her head, blinking with the memories from half a moon ago.
He recalls her again, green eyes that reached for her namesake stretched wide in shock— because what Sharppaw hadsaid was so ghastly, so appaling; utterly imaginable, the way it was. At the very least, she had not been angry. Just... surprised.
Sharppaw still did not know what to say to her. He feels different from how he did when they'd been trapped in those tunnels— but this is still something he was not made for, and likely never would be. Why did she, of all cats, deserve soft words and false murmurings of what could not be guaranteed?
He still finds himself wanting to talk, though. Which is weird.
It's convenient, where they both lay amongst the larger group. By pure coincidence, they are situated nearby, and not for the first time, Sharppaw would take her nighttime musings aloud. " Aren't you at least a little bit scared? " she whispers to the molly. Sharppaw isn't. If she were to return, just to find ShadowClan all dead in their nests, she would be perfectly fine. ( She most certainly would not be. ) " ...I know you were before, " If that is something Mosspaw had wanted to keep to herself, Sharppaw would gladly hold it above her head, blinking with the memories from half a moon ago.
![EpC61GT.png](https://i.imgur.com/EpC61GT.png)
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ooc: rubs my grubby hands together @Mosspaw
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( IS THAT NOT BRAVE ENOUGH FOR YOU? ) SHARPPAW: Mentored by Smogmaw
—— he / she , no pref , icked by they prns ; fine with gendered terms ( tom, molly, etc... )
—— currently 15 moons old. warrior ceremony delayed due to lackluster progress.
a dark smoke feline that stands at an above average height. Easily identifiable by her namesake – an unruly mat of fur, destined to be cluttered by inconsistencies between her chimera fur. Burdened with a broken tail. Recently, she has realized it can still function, though she has wholly believed in its utter uselessness for so long that it cannot without great effort. Anxious, antisocial, paranoid. Sharppaw has not known peace for a single time in his life, and lives anticipating inevitable dangers to the detriment of herself and others.
— Obsessed with the perceived 'game' within ShadowClan, the rules of which she is unaware of. Striving to be someone more likeable due to this.
heavy ic opinions! he sucks.